


Don't Tell Goal

by Santacita



Category: Deponia (Video Games)
Genre: Goal is mentioned, M/M, One Shot, Short, Short One Shot, cletus is not gay, i wrote this bc boredom, idk where they are or why they're in the same house, rufus is lowkey bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santacita/pseuds/Santacita
Summary: Cletus wants to work. Rufus won't let him. One-shot; very short.





	

     Cletus had always had trouble writing up progress reports for the Council of Elders. 

     It seemed so easy for Goal and everyone else, but to him it felt like some sort of… _thesis_ or something. He wrote his reports like he was transcribing the Holy Bible: detailed, overdramatic, and with way too many semicolons. If he ever voiced his complaints out loud, Cletus knew that Rufus would immediately retort with something predictable along the lines of _ha, just like you,_ to which Cletus would try to defend himself by stating that humans could not have semicolons imprinted into oneself, or even be detailed for that matter. _Could_ a person be detailed? Could you describe someone as… _detailed?_

     Cletus slammed one gloved fist down onto the desk, which, of course, rattled in that extremely unstable manner that it and everything else he encountered on this blasted planet seemed to possess. His pen leaped off the surface an inch or two before falling back onto the neatly spread sheet of paper laid out in front of him. There were two sentences at the top of the page:

      ** _ With all due respect, you request these reports as if there were anything new to divulge; and as always my weary digits lack incentive to inscribe. Deponia is as it was; a planet helplessly littered with debris and rubbish._**

     “Do you _ever_ shut _up?!”_

     Rufus inspected his bangs in a shard of glass hung up on the wall. According to him, it was supposed to be a mirror. Cletus still wasn't buying it.

      “Heheh, you know, that kinda sounds like a challenge. Is that a challenge?” 

     “Oh, for f-… _No,_ goddammit! _No!”_

     Cletus had always had trouble writing up progress reports for the Council of Elders. Today it was especially hard, because he was _especially_ bad at working in distracting environments. 

     Any environment containing Rufus was guaranteed to be distracting, and if it wasn’t, we’re offering a full refund. 

     “You know, it isn't good to swear with a lady in the house,” Rufus scolded. Cletus only _barely_ restrained himself from ripping that stupid clump of hair sticking out of his stupid hat right off his stupid head; he wasn't going to _touch_ this dirty rat.

      “You call this a _house?”_ Cletus snapped, standing abruptly from his chair. “Looks more like a rat’s arse to me.”

      “Well, the carpet in this room _was_ made out of-“ 

      “Stop. _Stop,_ for _God’s_ sake. I don’t want to know.” 

      “-the plucked hairs-“ 

      “ _Shut up!”_

      “-of rats.”

      Cletus violently kicked the poop-brown carpet out from under him, trying to touch it as little as possible. The last thing he needed right now were stains on his white shoes. 

     “Oh, but wait, there’s more!” Rufus announced, obviously having a grand old time. His face was doing that thing that Cletus absolutely despised: the-smile-that-wasn’t-quite-a-smile, but wasn’t small enough to be a smirk either. It was Rufus’ _Rufus Face._ And if there was anything Cletus hated more than Rufus, it was the Rufus Face. After that probably had to be the Rufus Voice, then mothballs, then the Rufus Pose. Following was an equally predictable chain of traits relating to Rufus. “You wanna know where those hairs came from _specifically?”_

     “It would make my day,” Cletus stated flatly.

     “Really?”

     “ _No!_ That was _sarcasm,_ you blasted moron-” 

     “So they take the rats that died in the fridge, right? Then they skin them, you know, for useful-“ 

     “Oh, God. Oh, God, make it stop.” 

     “-feed the meat and stuff to their kids, or their cat, or their wi-“

     “I’m warning you, if you don’t shut up and let me work-“

     “-but then they’ve got all this leftover stuff! What’re they gonna do with that?” 

     “Who bloody cares?!”

     “-the ballsack, and their little tweezers, and they oh-so-carefully pluck the little stray hairs. _Very_ carefully, mind you. They don’t want holes in the sack, of course. Because guess what they need those _ahahahahahaha!!_ Ohoho!Hee hee! You’re lookin’ a little green there, Cletus, buddy.” 

     The scowl on Cletus’ face had escalated to something more like a snarl. He pushed back the bile rising in his throat and jabbed on finger into Rufus’ chest, silencing him for a moment. He put his face _very_ close to the other’s— ignoring the uneasiness of gazing into a face so similar to his— and said, low and furious, “That. _That is disgusting._ Just like _everything else_ on this godawful planet. Just like you. _Especially_ like you. You’re worse than that. You’re ten times worse than that. No, pardon me, _five hundred thousand times_ worse than that. You’re the reason Deponia is so bloody unpalatable. You’re the reason I’m _stuck_ here. You’re the reason I have to write this blasted report for the blasted Council of Elders. You’re the reason I no longer have a fiancé. You’re the reason I’m so goddamn miserable. In your presence I no longer possess the will the live. In your presence I want to vomit all over your atrocious coat and your abhorrent boots. In your presence I have no hope. No dreams. No inspiration. You drain me. You repel me. You disgust me. You-“

     Rufus kissed him. 

     Cletus startled so violently he half-broke the connection. A muffled noise of protest exited his throat and he wrenched himself away, and that was when he noticed how close he was to Rufus. Their chests were practically touching. Their noses _were_ touching. Rufus’s stupid hair was brushing his forehead. 

     So much for avoiding contact.

   “Wh-wh-why-wh-what-fucking-wh-“ Cletus said. 

     Rufus grinned. “Whoopsie. My face slipped.”

     “You taste like _cheese,”_ was all Cletus could think of.

     “It’s like kissing myself,” Rufus continued. “How was I supposed to resist _that_ opportunity? I mean, c’mon.”

     “Get away from me,” Cletus snapped, finally finding the nerve to shove Rufus backwards into a chair. He wiped his mouth on one sleeve, but the taste wouldn’t go away. “And stay away. You’re… you’re _despicable.”_

     “Don’t tell Goal,” Rufus added.

     “Oh, I’m telling Goal,” Cletus promised.

      “Aw, don’t,” Rufus pleaded.

     “ _I’m telling Goal.”_

**Author's Note:**

> it was short, i know. I only wrote it to calm my Deponia feels, and only posted it because Deponia fanfiction apparently doesn't exist? no one's going to read this, but... whatever. maybe someone will. eventually. or something.


End file.
